Logic, Inescapable
by HopefulR
Summary: Spoilers through Home. T'Les's impressions of her visiting daughter T'Pol, and T'Pol's unexpected guest.
1. Part I

**Logic, Inescapable  
**by HopefulR

Genre: Romance, drama, episode addition  
Rating: PG  
Archive: Please ask me first.  
Disclaimer: _Star Trek: Enterprise_ is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.  
Spoilers: through "Home."  
Summary: T'Les's impressions of her visiting daughter T'Pol, and T'Pol's unexpected guest.

A/N: At what moment did T'Les realize that T'Pol and Trip were a couple? I began with that premise, and then kept going.

My thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary and the Vulcan Language Institute for information on local language and customs, and to all the betas who looked over the various chapters: slj91, Jenna, boushh, Misplaced, and TJinLOCA.

* * *

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part I_

It was not unexpected for T'Les to hear the faint scrape of footsteps on the stone stairway leading up to the house. She had estimated T'Pol's arrival would occur within the hour: her transport had arrived thirty-seven minutes ago, and the walk from the shuttleport took an individual of T'Pol's age and health approximately fourteen minutes at this time of day.

What was unexpected was hearing two sets of footfalls rather than one. Apparently T'Pol was not alone.

T'Les pondered who could be accompanying her daughter from the shuttleport. It was possible that she had informed a former colleague of her visit to Vulcan, or that someone had learned second-hand. Koss, for example, knew of her imminent arrival, though T'Les suspected T'Pol had nothing to do with that. However, T'Les quickly dismissed this initial hypothesis, considering it improbable that a member of the Vulcan Science or Security Ministries would leave his or her duties at this time of day merely to meet a colleague. They would more likely observe custom and allow T'Pol time with her family first, in any case.

Who, then?

Koss himself? It was possible that he had decided not to wait for a reply to the letter he had sent T'Pol, which was at this moment sitting in the central room, awaiting its recipient's arrival. Koss might have taken the initiative and met T'Pol at the shuttleport, giving her no way to avoid him, as she had so deftly managed to do for nearly three years, ever since she had summarily rejected his parents' ultimatum regarding their betrothal.

If Koss had indeed escorted T'Pol home from the shuttleport, T'Les hoped the two had arrived at an amicable arrangement regarding the marriage. It was an even better match now than it had been when T'Les and Sochya had arranged it; Koss's family had become quite powerful during the intervening decades. The matter was especially important now, with the mounting pressure being put on the Syrrannites by the High Command. If T'Les were ever exposed as a Syrrannite, T'Pol, as a member of Koss's house, would remain untouched by the scandal.

How ironic that T'Les had escaped attention as a Syrrannite up to now by virtue of being the mother of an even more prominent scapegoat: T'Pol, so stridently blamed by the High Command for the political debacle and archaeological catastrophe that was P'Jem. T'Les did not know which was worse— T'Pol's increasingly blind loyalty to the clumsily curious, headstrong humans with whom she served, who had compelled her to throw away her career— or her lingering ties, despite her resignation, to the increasingly corrupt High Command.

T'Les knew only too well that there was safety in conformity. Perhaps now, with the pressure of the war behind her, T'Pol would be less defiant, and more willing to listen to reason. Perhaps mother and daughter would at last be able to leave discord behind them, and find a place of mutual understanding and peace.

T'Les heard T'Pol and her companion's soft footfalls on the sand pathway leading to the gate. T'Les discerned that the breathing of her as-yet-unknown guest was slightly strained, which gave her pause. Fatigue after such a short walk was uncommon. Perhaps the stranger was an elder.

T'Les looked out the bay window as the gate swung open... and she saw that she had been completely mistaken. The visitor T'Pol was leading into the sand garden was a human, laboring in Vulcan's thin atmosphere, though not to an alarming degree.

And T'Pol! T'Les hardly recognized her daughter, so strikingly different was her appearance from when she last visited. T'Pol's few letters had spoken vaguely of injuries suffered while in the Expanse, and an unnamed illness she had contracted, from which she was still recovering. Still, T'Les was not prepared for the sight of this distressingly thin, fragile-looking creature. Moreover, her daughter moved with a nervous hesitancy that was uncharacteristic for one so headstrong and stubborn.

T'Les was most unsettled. What had happened to her T'Pol?

"How 'bout that volcano we saw on the way down?" the human was saying. "Mount... Tarana?"

"Tar'Hana," T'Pol corrected him.

"Is it still active?"

"There are frequent eruptions," T'Pol acknowledged. "We can schedule a tour of the crater, if you're interested."

The human seemed eager at the prospect. "Volcanoes, ancient ruins, fire plains... I'm not sure where to start."

So he had arrived on the same transport as T'Pol, it appeared. He was a tourist, in all likelihood, here to feed the annoyingly insatiable curiosity from which all humans seemed to suffer. Apparently T'Pol had formed an acquaintance with him, from the sound of their—

_No_. Again, T'Les realized she was in error. She could see now, as he turned, the insignia of the Starfleet ship, _Enterprise_, on his travel bag. _His travel bag_. He had made the weeks-long journey from Earth to Vulcan as T'Pol's companion, clearly with the intent to stay for a time.

As the human surveyed the sand garden with bright blue eyes that were keener than most, T'Les studied him more closely. Not yet middle-aged, he appeared a fit and healthy example of his species. His fair features conformed to, even exceeded, the human definition of attractiveness, judging by conversations T'Les had overheard on occasion between human students at the Science Academy on that seemingly inexhaustible topic.

T'Les was compelled to arrive at the only logical conclusion that fit the parameters before her: T'Pol had invited this human to accompany her to Vulcan. And now she had delivered him to her family home, to present him to her mother. Such a gesture, in Vulcan tradition, was tantamount to a betrothal.

T'Les was stunned.

Perhaps there still remained a shred of possibility that T'Les was mistaken, and the two were no more than working colleagues. T'Pol's invitation may have been extended as a gesture of goodwill. The human could hardly be expected to know the cultural significance to Vulcans of such an honor, after all.

The human had completed his visual inspection of the immediate environs. "So this is where you grew up," he remarked. "It's not like I imagined."

T'Pol eyed the man with something very like defensiveness. "Meaning...?"

He shrugged. "Well... it's beautiful."

She gave him a look of mild reproach. "Vulcans appreciate beauty."

T'Les's faint hopes withered like _kasa_ fruit left too long on the vine. The casual ease T'Pol and the human were exhibiting with each other, through vocal inflection and body language, was not at all indicative of mere colleagues.

The human gave T'Pol a roguish smile. "Well, I had no doubt about that," he said, his voice low and teasing. "You always were a snazzy dresser."

T'Les was startled to see the man's eyes roam quite brazenly up and down T'Pol's body, openly lingering on her backside, with a familiarity that spoke of intimate knowledge regarding the subject of his perusal.

T'Pol whirled to face him, throwing her own travel bag to the ground. T'Les was surprised by her daughter's blatant display of emotion, but nevertheless relieved that she at last appeared ready to take this presumptuous human to task for failing to show proper respect to a colleague and former officer of the High Command.

T'Pol, however, did not appear offended by the man's impertinence. T'Les watched in shock as her daughter tossed her head almost playfully at him, in the same manner T'Les had observed at times among the few human females who attended classes at the Academy.

By the bones of Surak! T'Pol had been in exile among these humans for too long.

T'Les found herself bowing to another inescapably logical conclusion, based on the evidence she had observed: not only did T'Pol tolerate this human, she had affection for him. The invitation home to Vulcan, to introduce him to her family, was sincere.

But there was still time to avert this disaster in the making. Humans were notorious for the superficial and often short-lived nature of their sexual liaisons. It was highly probable that this man saw T'Pol as an exotic trifle, a xenobiological experiment. He could not be depended upon to be stable or monogamous; he would tire of her, and move on. It was understandable that T'Pol, young and inexperienced in matters of the heart, would be unaware of this aspect of her human.

_Her human_. T'Les inwardly berated herself. She was behaving as illogically as T'Pol, and she didn't even know this man.

As T'Les emerged from the house, T'Pol was regarding the human in question with mock sternness. "Commander Tucker," she began primly, "I suggest—" At the sight of her mother, T'Pol froze, her words hanging in the arid morning air. She looked properly discomfited, at least. As well she should, after such an emotional lapse.

T'Les spared the human a single frigid glance. Though he appeared mildly surprised to see her, he remained otherwise composed.

Not so her daughter. T'Pol was, if anything, exhibiting even more emotion than before her mother's arrival. T'Les addressed her without preamble. "You didn't tell me you were bringing a guest."

T'Pol was so disconcerted, she almost stammered her reply. "Mother... you're home."

"Obviously," T'Les replied tersely. Really, her daughter's undisciplined behavior was becoming quite tiresome. Had T'Pol abandoned all ability to reason, as well as her emotional control, while she was away?

The human looked from one woman to the other, keeping his face carefully neutral. By contrast, T'Pol's eyes widened in mortification at her verbal clumsiness. She clasped her hands behind her back and stood silently, as if awaiting punishment for her transgression... looking suddenly quite young and vulnerable.

T'Les realized, belatedly, that her concern for her daughter, coupled with her disquiet regarding this human, had clouded her logic. She had expected discord, and it had come to pass. Taking a steadying breath, she began again, in a more conciliatory tone. "It is agreeable to see you," she told her daughter. "You... appear well."

T'Pol's discomfort eased somewhat. As if sensing that she needed additional time to compose herself, the human chose this moment to address T'Les. "I'm Charles Tucker."

Now was the time to cow this Charles Tucker into exposing himself for the transitory dabbler that he was. T'Les fixed upon him her most formidable ice-blue stare, which had reduced humans twice his age to babbling, self-conscious incoherency.

To her surprise, Tucker met her gaze unflinchingly, his blue eyes decidedly more warm and welcoming. Inclining his head in a gesture of deference, he said, "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

He glanced at T'Pol, who gave him a nod of silent encouragement. Then, to T'Les's astonishment, Tucker raised his hand in the traditional _ta'al_. T'Pol turned to her mother, her expression brightening hopefully.

The salute, and the pair's shared look beforehand, spoke volumes. T'Pol had taken care to teach Tucker, and he had willingly learned. He wished to show respect to her mother, and to honor Vulcan tradition. He did not consider T'Pol a dalliance; quite the opposite, T'Les suspected.

The situation was far worse than she had previously assumed.

Mechanically, T'Les returned Tucker's _ta'al_ as she mentally prepared herself for the conflict to come. There would be no peace between mother and daughter this day... or ever, perhaps. Not with Koss's letter still waiting patiently inside the house.

Despite T'Pol's affection for this human, she would be compelled to do what was expected of her; it was as simple as that. And what of this Commander Tucker's affection for her? Did he love her? Was this short-lived, mind-blind creature even capable of comprehending what it was to _be_ Vulcan, much less of committing heart and soul to a Vulcan for life?

T'Les could not imagine that such understanding was possible for any human. Therefore, Tucker's feelings were irrelevant, and would remain so. To assume that he could have any measurable impact on T'Pol's future was not logical.

tbc...


	2. Part II: Differing Tastes

**Logic: Inescapable**

_Part II: Differing Tastes_

T'Les was startled from her meditation by a sound she had not heard in this house for decades, since before Sochya's death: a man's soft laughter.

She remembered Sochya laughing like that. He had indulged himself rarely, never publicly, only when a special occasion warranted it... when he and T'Les were alone, and times were more peaceful. Long ago. She found it a pleasant memory, that low, musical sound.

Tucker and T'Pol were in the kitchen, preparing the morning meal, talking in low voices. T'Les saw from the lightening sky outside her bedroom window that the sunrise was imminent. She bent down to blow out her meditation candle— and realized with a start that Tucker was speaking in Vulcan.

"_Shur t'plomik_," he was saying slowly.

"Correct," T'Pol responded. "It is a vegetable soup."

"And this?"

"_Sazh-krei'la_. A type of roll."

"_Sazh-krei'la_." Tucker repeated the word carefully, apparently to be certain he was pronouncing it correctly. More evidence of his sincerity. Most distressing.

The two of them were growing closer under T'Les's own roof— in her very kitchen! It was simply unacceptable. It was...

His accent was good, for a beginner.

"What does it taste like?" he was asking.

"You will know soon enough," T'Pol replied.

His voice became playfully petulant. "Aw, T'Pol, why can't I taste some now?"

"As I already explained," she said patiently, "it is improper to partake of the meal before it is served."

He made a reluctant noise of assent. Then there was silence, punctuated by the quiet clinks of utensils being placed on trays... followed by the sound of a soft slap of skin on skin.

"Hey!" Tucker's voice was dumbfounded, and yet amused. "I can't believe you did that."

"I have seen Chef employ this method of deterrence in the Mess Hall, to great effect," came T'Pol's calm reply.

"I _expect_ Chef to slap people's hands away from the food before he serves it," Tucker said in protest. "He's a prima donna. You're Vulcan. You're supposed to be above that kind of—"

T'Les heard a sharper slap. Then Tucker again. "Ow!"

"When a deterrent is effective, its source is unimportant." T'Pol's voice was relaxed, even teasing. With T'Les, T'Pol always seemed tightly self-conscious and defensive, as if fearing the next mishap. With T'Les, T'Pol never teased. T'Les had assumed her daughter had no sense of humor.

"I just wanted a little bite," Tucker muttered, but his tone was teasing as well.

T'Les moved to the doorway of her bedroom. She was ready to present herself for the morning meal... but she paused, reluctant to step into the hallway. As soon as T'Pol and Tucker saw her, their conversation would cease... and for some reason that defied all logic, T'Les did not wish to interrupt them as yet.

"I fail to understand why you find it so difficult to wait until the morning meal to taste the food," T'Pol said to Tucker.

"Things're done pretty differently in my family's house," he replied. "I'm not used to bein' in the kitchen and fixin' the food without taste-testing it."

A long silence followed. T'Les could almost see T'Pol giving Tucker an arched-eyebrow stare that served to convey both a request for further clarification, and her annoyance that she needed the term explained to her. Such was the double-bladed lirpa of curiosity. "Taste... testing?" she asked at last.

"I take it Vulcans don't taste-test." Tucker sounded amused.

"We do not even have an equivalent for the term."

"On Earth, it's customary in the domestic home for the cook— usually the mother— to taste the dish as she's preparing it, to make sure it tastes the way she intends as she goes along. Recipes even list ingredients like, 'Add salt to taste'."

"How inefficient," T'Pol observed. "Why not eliminate the need for such testing by documenting a precise measurement of the ingredients and creating a permanent record?"

Tucker laughed softly again. "Besides the fact that it'd take all the fun out of fixing the food... some cooks don't follow recipes. My mom, for instance, has a gift for cooking. It's like an art with her. Rather than follow a recipe, she creates a dish using experience and instinct, taste-testing along the way. It turns out a little differently every time, but it's delicious all the same."

"The concept sounds unsanitary," T'Pol maintained.

"You're missin' the point," Tucker said. "When I was young, it was one of those family rituals that brought us all together and kept us close. I remember Mom cookin' up pan-fried catfish or grilled crab cakes, with Lizzie and David and me helping— or most likely makin' a mess of things, but Mom never said so. And when the food was near bein' ready, she'd give us each a fork and let us have a taste, to see what we thought. It always tasted perfect, o' course. That's Mom."

Tucker's words about his mother were respectful, admiring, affectionate. Most honorable. T'Les was quite disconcerted.

"Does the rest of your family share your mother's culinary expertise?" T'Pol inquired.

"Oh, I'm decent enough, I guess. David can't cook his way out of a paper bag, but lucky for him, Nuala's a great cook. And Lizzie..." T'Les heard Tucker's voice roughen with emotion. "She was a good cook, but her art... it was in her designs. They were open, airy... If you walk into a building she did, you feel like you're not quite touching the ground."

He was speaking of this Lizzie in the past tense, with palpable sadness in his voice. T'Les deduced that Tucker's sibling must have recently died.

T'Pol's voice reflected his. "Perhaps, after we return to _Enterprise_, you could show me pictures of the buildings she designed."

Tucker's voice brightened considerably. "I'll do better'n that. I'll take you to see them. If you'd like to go."

"I would."

"I wish I could show you my favorite of the places she did. It was down in Belle Glade— it got vaporized in the attack." His voice grew quiet with reminiscence. "It was a library. Lizzie wasn't expecting any of us to come to the opening— I was at Spacedock, up to my ears in design specs for _Enterprise_, and my brother was in Ireland. But I was able to get away for one day. We all hatched this secret plot— David and Nuala bundled up Patrick and hopped the shuttle over, and we picked up Mom and Dad in Panama City and roared down to Belle Glade together." T'Les heard another quiet chuckle. "We showed up just as they were cutting the ribbon during the opening ceremony. Lizzie was so excited, I thought she was gonna cry. She took us on a grand tour of the place. It was beautiful... she designed it like the old lending libraries of the 17th century. It was her first big job— got her a lot of good notices. It put her on the map." He was silent for a long moment. "Now they're both gone..."

T'Les moved noiselessly into the shadowy hallway, enough to see into the kitchen. T'Pol and Tucker were standing close together, but not touching. His face— remarkably open, even for a human— reflected long-standing affection, grief still fresh and stinging, a sibling's pride, a cherished one's loss.

T'Pol's expression clearly revealed shared sympathy. T'Les watched her daughter take Tucker's hand. It was a simple gesture, but it had a profound effect on him; he seemed to draw strength from her touch. He smiled wistfully at her as he gripped her hand tightly. "I wish you could've met Elizabeth. I think you two would've really hit it off." At her questioning glance, he amended, "You would've liked each other."

T'Pol nodded, looking pleased. Tucker shut his eyes as he shook his head. "Vacations are a dangerous thing. Too much time to think."

"Better fond memories than nightmares," T'Pol said.

He smiled at her again. "Can't argue with that." He drew nearer to her, and for a moment T'Les thought he was going to kiss her. But then, as if realizing where he was, he pulled back, simply holding T'Pol's hand against his chest, in a clear gesture of affection.

T'Pol studied their clasped hands for a long moment. Then, as if coming to a decision, she took his hand and gently shaped it, the first two fingers held out. As Tucker watched curiously, and T'Les looked on with a mixture of surprise and unease, T'Pol touched her two fingers to his in the traditional Vulcan _ozh'esta_. She looked almost shy as she told him, "When in public, Vulcans express affection in this manner."

As Tucker regarded their lightly touching fingers, a smile of wonder appeared on his expressive countenance. His gaze rose to meet hers. "Mind if we stay like this forever?"

T'Pol did not forget herself enough to return his smile, but her eyes were warm as she gazed up at him. "Normally I would not mind," she said softly. "However, we must serve the morning meal. My mother will be finished with her meditation soon."

"Right." With reluctance, Tucker lowered his hand from hers and turned to the trays they had prepared. A trace of his smile remained as he ran rapidly over the items. "Okay, we have _sazh-kreila, gespar, hirat, kasa_..." He paused, pointing. "What's that one again?"

"_Sash-savas_."

He nodded. "_Sash-savas... shur t'plomik_, and _theris-masu_." He spread his hands, looking satisfied. "_Asal-yem_ is served."

His accent was very good. T'Les sighed to herself. It was all quite impossible.

* * *

At the morning meal, T'Pol was again the stiff, self-conscious daughter to which T'Les was accustomed— always on the defensive, always afraid to fail. Tucker appeared a touch nervous as well, but it quickly became apparent to T'Les that he was apprehensive on T'Pol's behalf. When he spoke, it was with an engaging, easy-going confidence. 

With T'Pol and T'Les reluctant to discuss anything more risky than the weather, Tucker drove much of the conversation with his polite interest about the food. As he sampled each dish, he asked how it was grown and prepared, and related stories of his home on Earth, and his mother's own fruit and vegetable garden. It would have been much easier for T'Les to dismiss him had he been a typical boorish human, unable to conform to Vulcan customs, uninterested in Vulcan ways. Instead she was increasingly impressed by him, which irritated her no end.

"The _nar'ru_ vines have bloomed early this year," T'Pol remarked.

"I've had ample time to attend to them," T'Les replied dryly.

"It sounds as if you're not enjoying retirement."

T'Les was growing weary of wasting time with inconsequentialities. "You still haven't told me the reason for your visit."

T'Pol and Tucker glanced at each other. "I didn't know one was necessary," T'Pol said.

T'Les felt a trace of annoyance. Why would T'Pol not simply admit to her involvement with Tucker? T'Les had deduced its existence within two minutes of laying eyes on them, after all. Very well, if T'Pol wished to be difficult, T'Les would accommodate her. In a markedly upbeat tone, she said, "I thought perhaps you had decided to rejoin the High Command."

T'Pol hesitated. Finally she said, "I've been offered a commission with Starfleet. If I accept, it could be several years before I'm able to return home."

T'Les was stunned into silence. This was a development she had not expected. She found it nearly as calamitous as an admission of a liaison with a human. A post in Starfleet would give T'Pol a legitimate place in Tucker's world, and make it even more difficult to dissuade her from continuing this relationship with him. T'Pol would accept the commission, of course— her rebellious nature would assure it— guaranteeing that she would never conform to her people's ideals. T'Les suspected that, given the opportunity, T'Pol would follow her heart and turn her back on her people forever.

Why had Sochya encouraged the girl's individualism? T'Les would never understand. T'Pol's oddness was the source of her suffering, and would only continue to be. What difference could she make as a member of this human's organization, as a part of this human's life, if it meant being rejected by her own society?

She was spared the need to answer right away by, ironically, her own lack of facility with mechanics. Tucker had taken a bite of _gespar_. Even he, so eager to sample Vulcan foods, could not hide his visible reaction to the unpleasant taste.

"The _gespar_ isn't fresh," T'Les said flatly, unable to suppress a trace of frustration at her own inefficiency. "My stasis unit needs to be replaced."

"I'd be happy to take a look at it," Tucker said. He gave her one of his disarming, lopsided smiles. "If I can recalibrate a warp reactor, I ought to be able to handle a kitchen appliance."

T'Les debated inwardly for only a moment before nodding; accepting Tucker's offer of assistance was logical. She studied him for a moment. "My daughter has always been fascinated by alien worlds. She was all too eager to finish her schooling and leave Vulcan."

Tucker did not react, but merely sipped calmly at his _theris-masu_. The man seemed to possess a Vulcan-like imperturbability. T'Pol, however, straightened stiffly, reacting with a defensiveness that was almost human. "As I recall, you encouraged me to leave."

"A mother is expected to push her young out of the nest," T'Les replied tersely. "At some point, they are supposed to return."

T'Pol looked down, taking sudden interest in her food. T'Les focused her unforgiving blue eyes on Tucker. "I'm told that on Earth, the human child chooses their own path in life. They put their own wishes ahead of their family's."

To her increasing dissatisfaction, Tucker did not flinch away from her hard stare any more this morning than he had yesterday. He shrugged faintly and nodded. "That's true... for the most part."

T'Les turned her withering gaze on T'Pol, who reflexively shrank back. T'Les allowed a clear edge of accusation to color her voice. "You've learned much from them, haven't you?"

T'Pol pointedly set down her mug and faced her mother squarely, though she still resembled a wide-eyed, frightened _k'nurt_. She spoke carefully, with barely restrained anger. "A Starfleet posting is no less important than one with the High Command." She hesitated, then added purposefully, "I'm sure Father would have approved."

T'Les had little regard for the High Command these days, but having T'Pol rejoin that body was still preferable to seeing her paraded as a curiosity in Starfleet, while she threw away her career and heritage in the process. "Your father believed that our work should enrich _Vulcan_ society," she said pointedly.

T'Pol's eyes flashed with unguarded anger. "Earth is supposed to be our ally!" she retorted through gritted teeth.

T'Les stared, taken aback by her daughter's almost feral display of emotion. "What's happened to you?"

T'Pol's gaze lowered immediately in shame. As she struggled to regain control, her eyes darted back and forth, filled with anxiety. Finally she stole a glance at Tucker. He was already looking at T'Pol, his expression quietly supportive. As his eyes held hers, her agitation eased, much as Tucker had been calmed by her touch earlier. Her voice was quiet and composed when she spoke to T'Les. "We shouldn't argue in front of a guest."

Without another word, she returned to her meal. This time, Tucker remained silent as well, no doubt as a demonstration of support for his... what was the term the humans used?... his "lady friend." He was maddeningly honorable.

T'Les took a drink of _theris-masu_ to conceal her deepening concern for her daughter. Apparently, T'Pol was not yet prepared to reveal the reason for these distressing outbursts. Perhaps it had something to do with that mysterious, unnamed illness to which she had so vaguely referred in her letters.

Or perhaps T'Pol was simply overdosing on humanity. The years she had spent with Starfleet had brought her little gain, and far too much harm. Her professional reputation was tarnished, her personal life was in turmoil, her physical health was impaired, and her emotions were wildly on display. T'Les saw ample logic in convincing T'Pol to return home permanently, and put this unsettling part of her life— including Commander Tucker— in the past.

T'Pol's refusal to reply to Koss's letter would not likely deter him. T'Les counseled herself to be patient. It was possible that the ideal solution to the problem had simply not yet presented itself.

tbc...


	3. Part III: Surprises

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part III: Surprises_

T'Pol retired to her bedroom after the morning meal, to meditate. T'Les was not at all surprised, considering the tense silence into which the meal had lapsed following T'Pol's announcement that she had been offered a Starfleet commission. When Commander Tucker quietly excused himself and escorted T'Pol out, T'Les fully expected not to see either of them until the midday meal. Tucker's objective in coming here might have been to endear himself to T'Les, but his highest priority, clearly, was T'Pol's well-being. T'Les continued to be impressed by his regard for her daughter, though the complications created by his presence still disconcerted her.

With unexpected time at her disposal, T'Les took the opportunity to visit the garden. She found a number of vegetables ripe and ready to be picked— too many, in fact, to bring in at one time. As she brought her first basketful inside, she found that Tucker had already returned. He was in the kitchen, examining the stasis unit with a set of tools from a small kit that lay open on the counter nearby.

T'Les could not help but be intrigued by a man who would bring a tool kit on a visit sixteen light-years from home.

She set her basket down. "My husband amassed an extensive selection of tools, Commander," she remarked. "However, you appear to require nothing further."

Tucker turned to her, a tool in one hand, the stasis unit's power pack in the other. "I have everything I need right here, ma'am," he said with a smile. "Thanks."

T'Les transferred the vegetables from her basket to the sink. "I am somewhat puzzled as to why you would bring tools on a... vacation."

"Force of habit," he replied with a shrug, as he selected a smaller, more precise instrument from his kit. "I've been packing a tool kit in my duffel since my dad showed me what they were for. He taught me to make myself useful when I could."

"A logical attitude," she commented. _And an unusually unselfish view, for most humans._

Tucker laughed. "Dad is _not_ what I would call a logical man. But he is a sensible one. He believes in doing good to others." His face and voice reflected fond admiration. "He's the finest man I know."

"Is he employed in public service?" T'Les inquired, as she began washing the _plomik-lar_.

Tucker leaned his elbows on the counter as he began recalibrating the power pack. "In a way, I guess. He's a carpenter." Abruptly, he beamed with pride. "If it can be constructed of wood, my dad can build it." Then, with equal suddenness, his voice softened, as his eyes took on a distant look. "His last big project was helping to construct temporary housing for refugees in south Florida last year. After the attack..." He paused, his eyes downcast, fixed on the power pack in his hands. "A lot was lost after the attack," he finished quietly.

T'Les had seen the same wistfulness in the commander's expression earlier, when he had spoken of his dead sister to T'Pol. "Surak teaches us that, by benefiting others, we benefit ourselves. It is a lesson your father knows as well."

Tucker's gaze rose to meet hers. He swallowed, then wordlessly nodded. T'Les studied him for a moment longer, struck by the depth of compassion she saw in his eyes. She could not deny that this uncommon empathy of his had somehow enabled him to understand T'Pol in a way that T'Les had never been able to. She had seen the way Tucker's presence calmed and strengthened her daughter, and how T'Pol could do the same for him. If circumstances were different...

But they were not. T'Les went outside to gather more vegetables from the garden, as Tucker focused again on his work.

By the time T'Les returned with a second basketful, Tucker's expression had recovered its characteristically pleasant cast. As she prepared the _mashya-lar_ for cleaning, T'Les saw the commander stealing glances at her as he continued to make tiny corrections to the power pack.

"I just want to thank you for letting me stay here," he said at last.

T'Les was inwardly amused to see that the commander had returned to the business of attempting to ingratiate himself with her. Not only was this continued campaign irrelevant, it was no longer necessary, though Tucker evidently did not realize that. "Expressing gratitude is an Earth custom," she pointed out.

Tucker hesitated, apparently unsure whether to pull back or forge ahead. Finally, he offered hopefully, "T'Pol says thank you all the time."

"I've noticed," T'Les replied dryly, as she pulled on her scrubbing mitts.

Tucker deflated with a look of chagrin. Only a moment later, though, he was regrouping for another attempt. "T'Pol's lucky. It's nice to have a place to go home to."

T'Les could see why humans referred to such conversation as "small talk." She had had her fill of it during the morning meal. It was time to speak openly regarding the true reason for this visit. Without looking up, she said, "I know that you're romantically involved with my daughter."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tucker go very still, with an almost comically stunned expression on his face. She scrubbed patiently at the _mashya-lar_ skins as he straightened, opening his mouth to reply, then stopped again, apparently at a loss for words.

She faced him fully. "There's no logic in denying it," she said calmly.

Tucker seemed as if he wished to respond to her, but still he hesitated, his body tense, his manner uncertain. Perhaps he was being protective of T'Pol's privacy, and his honor prevented him from speaking plainly. He could not know, of course, what T'Les had observed as the commander and T'Pol were preparing the morning meal.

It occurred to T'Les that a question containing within it an inherent assumption might give Tucker leave to speak. "How long have you been attracted to her?" she asked.

All of his taut nervousness appeared to leave him in a rush of relief. "I knew we had some kinda chemistry the first time we got into an argument," he replied. With a surprised half-smile, he added, "I never had fun arguin' with anyone before."

T'Les noticed a touch of shyness coloring Tucker's demeanor as he spoke. His accent had subtly increased as well— typically an indicator of added stress or stronger emotion, or both. Evidently he regarded the imparting of these early impressions of T'Pol as a revelation of sorts. It was possible that he had never told anyone else... perhaps not even T'Pol.

T'Les was still attempting to determine whether Tucker derived enjoyment from the act of disagreeing, or simply from the interaction, however argumentative, with T'Pol herself, when she saw Tucker eyeing her with bemusement. "I got the impression T'Pol wasn't gonna say anything to you," he ventured cautiously. His accent was even stronger.

"She didn't," T'Les replied placidly. "I'm her mother."

Tucker's eyes widened in embarrassment— he was undoubtedly the most emotive human T'Les had ever encountered— before he bowed his head in mute acknowledgment of having been outmaneuvered. When he finally straightened, he gave her a sheepish smile, then gathered up his tools and the power pack and crossed to the stasis unit.

T'Les set the _mashya-lar_ in the colander to dry— then stopped in startlement at the sound of a deep, quiet hum. She turned to see the stasis unit's power grid flickering to full brightness, as Tucker adjusted the controls. "You've repaired it?" she asked in surprise.

The commander shrugged modestly. "The field generator just needed a little adjustment. It's as good as new."

How many more ways would this human find to defy her expectations? T'Les was beginning to wonder whether she should _anticipate_ surprise from Tucker, so as not to _be_ surprised. She found her circular logic rather agreeable.

Her eyes wandered across the kitchen to the food synthesizer, which had been malfunctioning with increasingly annoying regularity. Deliberately denying herself the opportunity to think better of it, she turned to Tucker. "If you have the time," she began deferentially, "perhaps you could repair my food synthesizer...?"

As Tucker nodded good-naturedly, there was a knock at the door. T'Les had another visitor.

tbc...


	4. Part IV: Duty

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to offer such kind words in your reviews. Much appreciated. And in answer to a query, I am staying within the bounds of established canon... while adding some "illumination" along the way.

**

* * *

**

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part IV: Duty_

Koss stood politely in the doorway, as Tucker looked curiously at him.

"Koss," T'Les said in greeting.

Tucker's eyes widened with recognition at the name, and his interested expression darkened to one of wariness. Koss gave him only a passing glance before turning his attention to T'Les. "I need to speak with T'Pol."

T'Les regarded both men... so different in appearance and temperament, one representing stability and tradition, the other risk and disapprobation. She suddenly realized that becoming more closely acquainted with Commander Tucker must not alter her assessment of the best course of action for T'Pol's future. Tucker's positive attributes were irrelevant. He was human.

T'Les found her daughter in her bedroom, still meditating. She waited until T'Pol opened her eyes and looked up.

"You have a visitor," T'Les said.

"Koss." T'Pol looked plainly vexed as she blew out her candle. Apparently meditation had been less than effective for her.

"Did you expect him _not_ to call on you, following his letter?" T'Les asked.

T'Pol rose with a sigh of irritation. "I had hoped for more time."

T'Les gave her a withering stare. "More time with your Commander Tucker? More time to spend in denial of your responsibility?"

T'Pol set her jaw stubbornly. "This discussion is over." She turned and walked out.

When T'Les reached the central room a moment later, Koss was already escorting T'Pol out to the sand garden. Tucker was still there, watching them from the kitchen.

As T'Les joined the commander, he resolutely turned away from the bay windows that looked out into the garden. He was obviously unsettled, but to his credit, he was endeavoring to conceal it. He gestured to the food synthesizer, which he had partially disassembled while T'Les was away. "The pathways to the database were corrupted— that's why the commands were getting mixed up," he reported. "I've reinitialized the program, but it looks like a couple of circuit modules need replacing."

T'Les nodded. "I appreciate your identifying the malfunction."

"No problem." Tucker gathered up his tools while T'Les returned to her vegetables. As she washed the _fori-lar_, she looked out the window into the sand garden, where she could see T'Pol conversing with Koss.

The contrast between the two was startling. Koss was still and composed, his gaze fixed wholly on T'Pol, his expression one of active interest— even affection at times, if one looked closely at his eyes. T'Pol, on the other hand, was a model of discomfort, pacing and fidgeting, her brow creased with worry. She spent much of the time turned away from him, or with her eyes cast downward.

Tucker had paused to look out the window again. T'Les watched him, as he watched her daughter. This time he did not bother to hide the concern on his face. T'Les was puzzled by his reaction. He had recognized Koss's name earlier; it was logical to assume that T'Pol had informed him of her past betrothal. Perhaps the commander had assumed, as T'Pol had, that the engagement was no more, merely because she had decided it was so.

They had both underestimated the resilience of Vulcan tradition.

Through the window, T'Les observed Koss departing through the open gateway. T'Pol remained in the sand garden, her restless body language and agitated expression conveying all too clearly that her conversation with Koss had left her disturbed. It was probable that he had declared his renewed intent to marry her, and had made a compelling argument for her to accept him. Perhaps he had reminded her of her family obligation, or invalidated whatever reason she presented for dismissing the betrothal yet again. Or perhaps T'Pol felt conflicted because she was beginning to see the logic of marrying him. T'Les must be prepared to persuade her, if the need arose.

But it would not be necessary, or honorable, to force Tucker to witness that conversation. He was already too aware of T'Pol's distress.

T'Les turned to him. "Commander, would you mind traveling into town and securing the parts necessary to repair the food synthesizer?"

Tucker clearly wanted nothing more than to rush impulsively out to the garden, to T'Pol's side. But he seemed to understand that T'Les was requesting time alone with her daughter. With an effort, he turned away from the window again. "Not at all, ma'am. I'd be happy to." He began the task of extracting the ineffective circuit modules.

T'Les returned her attention to her daughter, who still looked ill at ease outside. Soon the direction of her future would at last be assured, and Tucker— remarkable, problematic Tucker— would be gone. Why, then, did T'Les feel a measure of regret?

tbc...


	5. Part V: Truths

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part V: Truths_

After T'Les showed Commander Tucker out through the west end of the house, she returned to find the sand garden empty. No matter; T'Pol would return, no doubt armed with renewed defensiveness and denial. Though Koss was responsible for reviving the subject of their betrothal, T'Pol would find some way to ascribe blame to T'Les. Such was the way between mother and daughter, now that Sochya was no longer present to mediate between them.

T'Les was meditating when she heard T'Pol approaching from the east wing; perhaps she had gone in search of Tucker. With her eyes still shut, T'Les heard the footsteps cease... but T'Pol did not speak. _Are you waiting for me to read your mind?_ T'Les thought wearily. _Even a Syrrannite melder cannot touch minds from a distance._ "It's difficult to meditate with you standing there," she said, allowing a touch of irritation to color her voice.

When T'Pol spoke, her tone was not sharp or combative, as T'Les expected, but quiet. "This retirement wasn't your choice."

This was wholly unanticipated; T'Les had never intended for T'Pol to learn the details of her departure from the Academy. T'Les found herself struggling not to display emotion.

Koss must have told T'Pol, of course. His father was highly placed in the Education Ministry; it would have been a simple matter for him to learn the specific circumstances surrounding T'Les's "retirement." She was highly displeased that Koss had revealed the facts to T'Pol; it was most improper. And what did this have to do with Koss's visit, or the marriage? Why would he make T'Pol aware of information that would only distress her?

With an effort, T'Les composed herself for the difficult conversation to come— quite different from the one she had expected. "That's not entirely accurate," she amended, without meeting her daughter's eyes. "I chose to retire rather than face dismissal. I was under investigation by the Security Ministry; they claimed I had taken restricted data from the Academy archives."

She sensed T'Pol's gaze intent upon her. "Did you?"

"No." T'Les turned away, unable to conceal the deep unsettlement she felt at T'Pol's words. Had their relationship deteriorated to such a degree that T'Pol could believe her mother capable of thievery?

"I don't understand." There was uncertainty in T'Pol's voice now.

"Their accusations were fabricated," T'Les said matter-of-factly. "I was told that if I left the Academy, they would end the inquiry."

T'Pol crossed to the low steps nearby and sat, her eyes huge with confusion, her thin frame little more now than a gawky jumble of elbows and knees. Again, T'Les was reminded of a much younger T'Pol, long ago. "Why would the Ministry do this?"

Clearly, T'Pol had not considered the reverberations of P'Jem... or the ability of some in power to rationalize their acts of retribution as logical recourse. In reply, T'Les looked squarely at her daughter, letting the silence speak for her.

Slowly, T'Pol's eyes widened with realization. "Because of me," she murmured softly. "They blamed me for the incident at P'Jem."

T'Les nodded. "After the monastery was destroyed, the First Minister was dismissed. You've made many enemies here."

"They couldn't reach me on _Enterprise_, so they punished you." T'Pol's face twisted into a snarl of naked fury. "It's criminal!"

T'Les found herself stunned into immobility by her daughter's transformation. T'Pol leaped to her feet, her hands balling into fists as she stalked across the room like an angry _le-matya_. "How could you let them do this?" she demanded.

For T'Les, the matter was no longer an issue; it was done. Of far greater importance was T'Pol's troubling lack of emotional control, and the reason behind it. "You've changed," T'Les said quietly, her voice betraying her concern. "Your emotions were always close to the surface, but you managed to suppress them. It's because of this Commander Tucker, isn't it? He's the reason why you refuse to bond with Koss."

T'Pol was behind her now, still and silent. T'Les knew she was stating the obvious, but T'Pol needed to face the facts— as did T'Les herself. "Do you really believe that a human and a Vulcan can have a future together?" she pressed. She knew her words must sound inordinately harsh and prejudicial; they seemed so even to her. But T'Pol and Tucker's affection for one another would do little to protect them against the enormous pressures they would face— both professionally and personally, from humans, Vulcans, and even each other— were they to attempt a permanent union.

And if they were ever to investigate the possibility of a family... that idea presented a number of scenarios that T'Les hardly wished to contemplate: T'Pol ostracized and exiled from Vulcan... a life of isolation on Earth, as some sort of oddity... a premature end to a promising career. "Imagine the shame your children would endure," she continued. "Assuming that the two of you could have children."

She heard T'Pol approach, her steps measured and deliberate. T'Les felt a dangerous calm coming over her daughter. The change was as startling as T'Pol's earlier outburst.

T'Pol spoke in a low, icy tone. "That wouldn't be your concern." Without another word, she turned and left the room.

So they had already envisioned children, if T'Pol's response was any measure. T'Les sighed. Just as she thought she understood this involvement between her daughter and Tucker, it became inexplicable once more. Discussion of offspring— especially offspring that would require medical intervention to create— typically indicated a relationship of long standing. But for T'Pol to teach Tucker the _ozh'esta_ for the first time only this morning attested to an affection in its early stages.

So many inconsistencies. Perhaps, with a human involved, things would never be completely comprehensible.

* * *

As soon as Commander Tucker returned, T'Pol spent the remainder of the day with him, taking him to several notable Vulcan landmarks. She hardly spoke at all during the evening meal, while Tucker, by contrast, seemed the relaxed and eager tourist, enthusing over their visits to the Osana caverns and the Temple of Amonak. T'Les could not discern whether her conversation with T'Pol had had any influence on her daughter's decision regarding Koss.

The following day, after T'Pol and Tucker had departed for the Fire Plains, T'Les received a message from Toral, Koss's father, informing her that, at Koss's request, he had begun discussions with the Security Ministry and the Science Academy to restore T'Les to her previous teaching position. Suddenly, a great deal of the mystery regarding Koss's conversation with T'Pol yesterday seemed clearer.

T'Les could infer with a high degree of certainty that T'Pol had agreed to marry Koss, and for what reason. T'Les wished that Koss had not resorted to what amounted to coercion to achieve his objective, though he would undoubtedly characterize his actions as a logical exchange of valuable commodities to benefit all concerned. T'Les suspected, however, that Koss's affection for T'Pol had likely clouded his logic.

T'Les wondered whether, at this juncture, anyone's logic remained clear regarding this matter.

tbc...


	6. Part VI: Heartache

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part VI: Heartache_

T'Les was in her bedroom, laying out her ceremonial robes for the wedding, when she heard the door open and shut with far more force than was necessary.

It would appear that T'Pol had informed Tucker of her decision to marry Koss.

If the intensity of his reaction was any indication, the commander had apparently been given no prior warning. Did T'Pol not tell him that the purpose of Koss's visit was to formally voice his intent marry her— and that her acquiescence was not merely a possibility, but a likelihood? Had she not explained her family obligation?

Perhaps she wished to spare Tucker the disagreeable developments until the last moment. Or... perhaps she had not known how to tell him earlier at all.

_Humans, who choose their mates at will, must believe Vulcan customs to be incomprehensible... just as we regard theirs as selfish._

T'Les heard Tucker making his way purposefully to the guest room. Oddly, she did not hear T'Pol.

T'Les went to the central room, but saw no sign of her daughter. Evidently Tucker had returned alone.

She proceeded to the guest room. The door was ajar, and she could see movement within: the commander crossing back and forth, quickly, his body tense.

She knocked on the door. After a long moment, Tucker opened it fully. His expression was tightly controlled... but his eyes betrayed him. He was in great distress.

Beyond him, on the bed, T'Les saw his travel bag open, half-filled with clothes. Judging from the speed and haphazardness of his packing, he intended to leave before T'Pol returned.

T'Les was taken aback. Tucker had consistently shown T'Pol support, affection, and respect. Now he was acting like a petulant child. Such conduct from him was illogical. Not that humans were known for their logic, especially regarding romantic liaisons, if the humans at the Academy were any measure... but Tucker had seemed to be an exception.

His behavior was demonstrating to T'Les that he was indeed capable of committing his heart to T'Pol. In fact, he showed every indication of being in love with her.

Perhaps he had told her of his feelings— given her an ultimatum and, of course, been rejected. It seemed unlikely, however; the current inconsistency of his actions appeared to be rooted in a dearth of information, not an abundance of it.

It would be an easy thing for T'Les to step away, allowing Tucker to leave unimpeded. Her problem had been solved, after all: T'Pol had agreed to marry Koss. But the misunderstanding that was driving Tucker away would likely damage T'Pol's working relationship with him to an irreparable degree. He was human; he would be hurt. If they were foolishly expecting each other to understand now, and failing so utterly, they would do no better after T'Pol was wed.

Was it logical to allow T'Pol's relationship with Tucker to destroy itself completely? Should T'Les let it starve and die for lack of information?

"I have a message for T'Pol," she told the commander. "Perhaps you can deliver it when she returns."

Tucker hesitated. "I may not be here when she returns."

_May not_... So he was reluctant to admit he was planning to escape. He knew it was incorrect behavior. Whatever was superceding his moral correctness— pain, fear— must be tremendous.

But T'Les was not one to indulge a student who had yet to learn a vital lesson. Coolly, she raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I thought you were her friend."

Tucker's expression softened, revealing deep emotional pain... _heartache_ was the human term, she believed. "I don't know anymore," he said.

It was hardly the response of a man who had been apprised completely of the situation. Quite possibly, he did not yet understand the nature of T'Pol's sacrifice. "Did she tell you why she is marrying Koss?"

Tucker looked away; clearly, this was not a conversation he wished to relive. "She said Koss's father could get you your old job back... that you resigned because of something she did."

_As I suspected. The commander is not fully informed._ "That is an oversimplification," T'Les replied. "In fact, I was compelled to resign after false charges were brought against me, as retribution for my daughter's alleged fault in the destruction of the monastery at P'Jem."

The play of emotions on Tucker's expressive face were striking: shock, outrage, realization. "She's not to blame for that any more than you are!" he exclaimed, when he found his voice. "The High Command violated the treaty with Andoria by putting that spy station there. Captain Archer was the one who exposed the treaty violation. T'Pol was just doin' her job as first officer."

"I don't take issue with your captain's actions, or T'Pol's," T'Les said calmly. "In fact, I support them. The High Command was clearly in the wrong. But the truth, in this case, is irrelevant."

More emotions made their way across Tucker's countenance: surprise, sympathy... then, finally, comprehension, and deep sorrow. "She feels responsible," he murmured softly.

T'Les had apparently underestimated Tucker's capacity for understanding the Vulcan perspective. Evidently they had both found enlightenment today.

"Tell T'Pol that I received a communication from Koss's parents," she said. "They have agreed to permit her to resume her duties on _Enterprise_ immediately following the wedding."

For a moment, the commander looked slightly disgruntled. "Yeah, T'Pol already told me about the 'negotiations.'" Then he drew himself up, adopting a carefully neutral expression. "That's good. Her work on _Enterprise_ and with Starfleet mean a lot to her."

"It is not merely 'good'," T'Les replied. "It is unprecedented, in my experience. Tradition dictates quite clearly that a newly married couple is to spend their first year together. The custom is strictly adhered to; an exception is remarkable."

"T'Pol is remarkable," Tucker said, with quiet conviction.

"Yes." T'Les paused. "Koss's father also informed me that he has begun discussions with the Vulcan Science Academy to have me reinstated as an instructor there."

Tucker nodded. "T'Pol will be pleased to hear that. So am I, ma'am."

"She is putting the best interests of her family ahead of her own wishes," T'Les said. "As is Koss, in allowing her to leave. It is the Vulcan way. The decision to allow T'Pol to return to her crew on _Enterprise_ rather than abandon her responsibility to them... the decision to restore me to my post at the Academy, where I can be of benefit to many... All of these spring from the same logic: the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

Tucker remained silent, his face uncharacteristically unreadable. T'Les could not determine whether she had succeeded in preventing permanent damage to his friendship with T'Pol. It would be up to them now.

"I'll leave you to your packing, Commander." She turned to go.

As she reached to pull the door shut behind her, she heard him say, "I'm not packing."

She turned back. Tucker's expression had undergone a marked change, from impassive to thoughtful. "Actually," he said, gesturing to his travel bag, "I was going through these clothes I brought, and I realized I don't have anything appropriate to wear to the wedding." He gave her a small, sheepish smile. "I didn't even pack my uniform."

T'Les's respect for the commander rose significantly. Again, she felt a certain regret that the present circumstances could not permit Tucker and T'Pol to pursue their relationship.

She scanned him up and down. He appeared to be the same height and weight as Sochya. Her expression softened as she met his gaze. "I should be able to find robes that will suffice."

His eyes reflected his gratitude. "Thank you."

They heard the door to the sand garden open. "That is likely to be T'Pol," T'Les said. "There is no need for you to deliver my message now, Commander."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to." Tucker smiled faintly. "I need to talk to her about a few things anyway."

"As you wish." T'Les stepped aside. As she watched the commander leave the room ahead of her, she thought belatedly, _He left his uniform at home, but brought a tool kit... Fascinating._

tbc...


	7. Part VII: Epiphany

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part VII: Epiphany_

T'Les entered a storeroom off the hallway, where Sochya's clothes were packed away in a large trunk of carved _sher skah_. As she searched for a set of ceremonial robes that would be suitable— a deep brown would complement the commander's coloring— she heard Tucker and T'Pol's voices from the central room, carried clearly on the late afternoon air.

"Hi." Tucker sounded both eager and apprehensive.

T'Pol's voice was filled with relief. "I thought you might have gone directly to the shuttleport and boarded the first transport offplanet."

"I'm sorry for runnin' out on you," he replied. "I wasn't thinkin' straight. It was a lot to take in..." T'Les heard a soft chuckle from him. "My dad would say my brain got full. I was a little overwhelmed."

"It is understandable." T'Les could hear her daughter's voice roughen with emotion. "I did not anticipate this..."

"Here, sit. I have news."

T'Les found the dark brown robes she had been seeking. Carefully, she pulled them out. They still smelled faintly of Sochya, after all these years.

"Your mom told me that Koss's dad has started negotiating to get her old job back for her," the commander said.

As T'Les rose from the trunk with the robes, she heard T'Pol exhale audibly. She spoke carefully, her emotions diligently held in check. "That is agreeable news."

T'Les could easily picture a lopsided grin on Tucker's face. "Yeah, she'll have to tear herself away from her gardening, I guess, to go back to work. You think she can handle it?"

"I would say so," replied T'Pol, a trace of amusement in her voice.

T'Les peeked into the hallway. T'Pol and Tucker were seated side by side on the bench near the kitchen. Their fleeting moment of levity was already fading, leaving a pall of mingled disbelief and despair hanging in the warm air between them. T'Pol looked small and fragile. Tucker hovered close beside her, his affection plain on his face. He kept his hands tightly knotted in his lap, as though to keep them from flying out to take her in his arms.

"This is really happening, isn't it?" he said.

T'Pol's voice was soft. "Yes."

Tucker took a deep breath, then faced her. "Well, I'm not gonna let you go through it alone. I'll be there. At the wedding."

She turned to look at him, her eyes brimming with gratitude and unshed tears. Their faces were very close.

"If you want me there," he added quietly.

T'Pol could not speak; her emotions had robbed her of her voice. Wordlessly, she nodded.

They remained physically separated, almost painfully so, but T'Les could not recall seeing two people who seemed more connected.

She turned away, feeling like an intruder, and escaped to the guest room, where she laid Sochya's robes on the bed for Tucker to find when he returned.

* * *

The priest's party arrived precisely one hour before the ceremony was to begin. Once T'Pol had been sequestered in her bedroom to be made ready by an attendant, T'Les saw to the comfort of her guests. Then she and Tucker retired to their respective rooms to dress for the wedding.

As T'Les put on her ceremonial robes, she found herself unable to banish the image of Tucker and T'Pol in the central room, so close, but unable to touch...

She stopped, her outer robe trailing from her hand, as an epiphany struck her. She had erred in her assumptions that T'Pol's reputation and career would best be safeguarded by marriage to Koss, and that Tucker could have no lasting impact on her future.

For years, T'Les had stood by helplessly as the increasingly corrupt and narrow-minded High Command stridently censured T'Pol merely because she was unique. After the political debacle and archaeological catastrophe of P'Jem, T'Les had little faith left in the High Command to do what was appropriate for Vulcan or its people, much less her daughter. Was it really the most logical course to tie T'Pol to such a tainted government?

And was _Enterprise_ so unsafe a place for her, if T'Les were discovered to be a Syrrannite and arrested? T'Les was beginning to think it might be the safest place in the quadrant for her daughter— well away from the machinations of the High Command, populated by those who valued her individuality, rather than denigrated it... and in the company of a human who clearly loved her with his whole heart.

Perhaps it was not too late for T'Les to correct her miscalculation. The family would bring scandal upon itself for backing out of the wedding mere minutes before its commencement, but that was of little consequence. After T'Pol's curt rejection of Koss and his parents three years ago, then P'Jem, then T'Pol's public rebuke of Ambassador Soval following the Paraagon tragedy, T'Les and family scandal were old companions. Yet another disreputable incident would be a small price to pay to ensure her daughter's contentment after so much injustice.

A soft knock at her door interrupted her ruminations. It was one of the priest's attendants, come to inform her that T'Pol was ready, and that Koss and his parents had arrived. Tucker had not yet joined them.

T'Les would have a moment, then, to speak with the commander in private.

tbc...


	8. Part VIII: Grace

**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part VIII: Grace_

Tucker stood obediently as T'Les finished fastening the collar of his jacket, but he nevertheless appeared uncomfortable. She wondered if his unease was due to the Vulcan robes he wore— which suited him much more agreeably than he seemed to realize— or the impending ceremony, or both.

Lightly, she touched his shoulders, and her suspicions were confirmed. Beneath his quiescent demeanor, she sensed a roiling desert storm of emotions: self-consciousness, frustration, apprehension, doubt... and as she suspected, love.

To ease his uncertainty, she said, "These clothes belonged to my husband. They fit you well." She hoped he understood the meaning behind her words: _You are worthy of them_.

Evidently she succeeded, for Tucker seemed reassured enough to speak of what troubled him. "Aren't you bothered by the fact that T'Pol doesn't even care for this guy?"

"She's fulfilling her family obligation," T'Les replied. It was unfortunate, she reflected, that T'Pol's aversion for Koss did not bode well for a marriage of any measure of contentment for her. Perhaps Koss's affection for her would win her over... eventually...

T'Les saw Tucker's face fall; perhaps he saw something of T'Les's wistful thoughts betrayed in her eyes. Quickly, she looked away. "I met my husband only once before we were joined," she said. "In time, we developed a deep connection to each other."

This time, Tucker did not seem mollified. He turned back to the small mirror to check the collar of his jacket. "Yeah, well, maybe she'd rather make a connection with someone else."

T'Les could not help but admire Tucker's quiet defiance in the face of what he believed to be a situation he could no longer alter. Now was her opportunity to tell him otherwise. "Have you informed T'Pol?" she asked.

He was still preoccupied with his collar clasp. "Informed her of what?"

"That you're in love with her."

Startled, Tucker turned to stare at her, as if he thought she had somehow plucked the knowledge from his mind. T'Les would have been amused, if the circumstances were not so painful for him. "Vulcans may not express their emotions, but we are sensitive to them," she explained.

Tucker nodded resignedly in confirmation. "I don't think I knew it until we were standing over that lava field, and she told me she was going to marry Koss," he confessed quietly. "That's when it hit me, that I was going to lose her."

T'Les had never seen so sorrowful an acknowledgment of affection. Tucker continued, "I wanted to tell her right there..." He forced a smile, but it was melancholy, filled with regret. "But I couldn't."

Now he was the one who looked away, unwilling for T'Les to see the emotion he could not hide. She stepped behind him, giving his emotion privacy as she pondered the questions his words had raised. If Tucker was not yet ready to tell T'Pol of his love for her, was he prepared to weather the scrutiny that would come with halting this wedding and publicly acknowledging his relationship with her? Would joining his life to hers bring them contentment, or misery? What _was_ the best course?

T'Les could not live their lives for them; the choice must be theirs. But Tucker needed to know that a choice remained.

She returned to his side. "There's still time."

Tucker was, if anything, even more caught off guard by this latest declaration. Amid the astonishment and confusion on his face, there appeared a flicker of hope. "I thought you didn't approve," he said uncertainly.

T'Les chose her words carefully. It would not be wise for her to publicly support this relationship, only to have unwanted attention focused on the family. T'Pol and Tucker would have more than enough to manage without the added complication of an investigation into T'Les's "nonconformist" views. "I may not condone your relationship, but it's important for her to have all the facts."

For an instant, she saw Tucker's hope buoyed up by the potential for joy now extended toward him, waiting only for him to seize it. But as T'Les watched, he hesitated, slowly shaking his head. "If I say anything, T'Pol might call off the wedding." With a touch of wryness, he added, "Or worse, _not_ call it off." Finally his face settled into an unresisting acceptance of something inescapable. He gave T'Les a faint smile of infinite grace. "She's got enough pressure on her as it is. I don't want to make things any more complicated."

T'Les regarded him for a long moment in silence. He had surprised her yet again, for the most honorable of reasons. Tucker was indeed an uncommon human if he could sacrifice the chance for a lifetime of happiness, in support of T'Pol's wish to do what was right and proper for her family. T'Les was impressed beyond measure... and saddened as well.

Out in the sand garden, the ceremonial gong sounded: Koss was formally announcing the arrival of the male's clan, according to the ancient rites. The wedding ritual had begun.

T'Les left the guest room ahead of Tucker, giving him a moment alone with his heartache, and his grief. T'Pol was not dead, but for Tucker, the pain of her loss as a mate would be nearly as deep.

If circumstances were different...

T'Les wished they were.

tbc...


	9. Part IX: Letting Go

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback. I've really enjoyed reading your reviews.

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**Logic, Inescapable**

_Part IX: Letting Go_

The tall, wizened priest— brought from the temple of Mt. Seleya itself, at the request of Toral— stood ready in the central room. He wore muted mauve robes which, for one accustomed to study and contemplation, were a remarkable show of color to mark the occasion of the wedding ceremony.

Beyond him and the acolyte at his side, T'Pol waited, resplendent in her purple wedding robes. Her expression, however, was as grave as it had been on the day Sochya had died: overwhelming grief, barely held at bay. T'Les beheld that face, and wondered whether her daughter was lost to her forever.

Tucker entered the room behind T'Les. She fully expected that as soon as the commander saw T'Pol, her daughter's sorrow would be reflected in his entire demeanor. T'Les observed Tucker as his eyes fell on T'Pol. Remarkably, though, he allowed none of his distress to show; instead, he gave her daughter a gentle smile of respect, admiration, and unmistakably, love.

Watching Tucker's dignified manner, T'Les felt herself more at peace. She would trust that the commander, by declining to tell T'Pol of his feelings or attempting to halt the wedding, had made the choice that was in her daughter's best interest. T'Les must believe that.

"You look amazing," Tucker said softly to T'Pol.

Her voice quavered as she struggled to maintain her emotional control. "I'm grateful that you're here," she said.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied.

From the sand garden, the ceremonial gong sounded again. According to custom, the male rang the gong a second time to signal his readiness for the wedding rites to commence. T'Pol tensed at the sound, not making any move to leave. Her eyes remained locked on Tucker's, almost pleading. T'Les was reminded of a dazzlingly beautiful _lara_ bird entangled in a _d'mallu_ plant, unable to free itself.

"It's time," T'Les said. Her words seemed to break the spellbound moment between the two; Tucker looked away, moving back from T'Pol. T'Les stepped between them as she led the marriage party outside.

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The late afternoon air was warm, but T'Les felt an uncomfortable coldness permeating the sand garden that had nothing to do with the temperature. She saw it in the faces of Toral and Keshta, Koss's parents, and in Koss's aloof gaze as T'Pol took her place across from him. T'Les even felt it behind her, as Tucker made his way to the spot farthest from the bride and groom, against the wall of the house. 

"What ye are about to witness comes down from the time of the beginning without change..."

T'Les attempted to focus on the sonorous voice of the priest as he recited the ancient vows, but her clear view of Koss drew her attention away. He appeared the model of Vulcan stoicism as he knelt across from T'Pol; T'Les did not detect even a trace of the affection she had seen in his eyes during his earlier visit with her daughter. Curious. She knew Koss was now achieving the objective that had become something of a quest for him these past three years. Perhaps his more formal demeanor today was for the benefit of his parents, or in keeping with the solemnity of the ceremony. Even so, T'Les wondered what had transpired during the interim.

She could not see T'Pol's face, but her daughter's rigid posture confirmed what T'Les already knew: this would be a marriage in name only. T'Pol resisted it in body as well as mind and heart. Her _ozh'esta_ was but an artificial, empty pose: when Koss's two fingers touched hers, T'Les saw T'Pol subtly stiffen, as though his mere touch was almost too much for her to bear.

Perhaps this was the reason for Koss's expressionless mien: he knew his long-standing affection for T'Pol not only went unreturned, but had been summarily rejected.

The sand garden was filled with people, but T'Les felt only emptiness.

"...This is the Vulcan heart," the priest intoned. "This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way..."

T'Les's only consolation was T'Pol's stubborn insistence on retaining her career as showpiece for the humans. She would have _Enterprise_, and on _Enterprise_, there would be Tucker. He could not have her for his own, but T'Les hoped that he would watch over T'Pol, in his own fashion. T'Les doubted he would be able to do anything else.

She had heard talk at the Academy regarding the fickle nature of the human heart; they could fall out of love as quickly as they fell into it, and as affection faded between former _ashal-veh-lar_, respect typically dissolved as well. T'Les thought it highly improbable, though, that Tucker would cease to love T'Pol, any more than he would dishonor her. The connection T'Les had sensed between them was far too strong.

At the ceremony's conclusion, T'Pol and Koss rose and turned to the priest. "It is done," he said solemnly. "These two are now one."

T'Les could now see her daughter's face for the first time since T'Pol and Tucker's exchange before the ceremony. T'Pol appeared somber and resigned, her dark eyes distant. Even as Koss's parents approached the couple, looking satisfied, T'Pol did not react.

As T'Les joined them, she saw T'Pol's sad eyes move past her and the priest to the house, where Commander Tucker still stood. Hesitantly, she met his eyes. As T'Les watched, Tucker lightly touched his fingers to his right cheek, then gave T'Pol the same reassuring smile he had shown her before the ceremony.

His simple gesture seemed to infuse T'Pol with strength. Her eyes warmed, giving her expression a serene calm. She drew herself up, then smoothly joined the conversation between Koss and his parents. T'Les could sense her daughter at last accepting her circumstances and stepping gracefully into her role as Koss's wife.

T'Les glanced back to see Commander Tucker slipping away, unnoticed, into the house.

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A few minutes later, T'Les had an opportunity to steal away herself. As she entered the house, she saw Tucker coming into the central room from the east wing. He had changed out of the ceremonial robes, and was carrying his packed travel bag, moving quickly and quietly toward the kitchen. He glanced in the direction of the sand garden, saw the wedding party still occupied outside— 

—And as he reached the kitchen he froze, seeing T'Les watching him from the doorway to the garden. At once, a look of guilt came over him, as if he expected a reprimand from her.

It was T'Les's assessment, however, that the commander had done more than enough this day to earn a dignified exit. She joined him, and with a subtle but deferential nod, opened the door through which she had shown him out yesterday.

Tucker looked quite nonplussed. T'Les found herself oddly pleased by his reaction. _So, Commander, I surprise you for a change_.

There was little time for words. Nevertheless, Tucker paused before her. "Thank you for your hospitality." As soon as he had spoken, he smiled apologetically. "I know. Showing gratitude is a human thing. I can't help it, I guess. Sorry."

"There is no offense where none is taken," T'Les replied, quoting Surak. She hesitated only a moment before adding, "You need not be concerned about modifying your behavior. You are a most worthy individual." She inclined her head toward him, conveying, she hoped, all the gratitude and respect she felt for him.

Tucker seemed to understand. His face softened into a sad trace of a smile. He nodded back, then slipped out the door.

T'Les returned her attention to the sand garden. Koss and his parents were conversing with the priest, while T'Pol stood silently by, her demeanor poised, her face perfectly composed.

Tucker was gone, but he had left his strength behind, supporting T'Pol. T'Les would always hold him in the highest regard for what he had sacrificed... what he had lost.

She grieved for him. She grieved for them both.

-end-

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A/N: Thank you again for all the marvelous comments. 

For those of you wondering (even hoping) that I would take this story in an AU direction at the end, you might want to take a look at an ongoing series of mine called _Reconnecting_. You can find it archived at the Trip/T'Polers Fanfiction Archive; the link is at my website. The first story begins in the middle of the wedding, and then...


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